


Lost In Translation

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: It takes Noctis a long time to realize that when Nyx is saying one thing, he means something else entirely. A series of shorts for NyxNoctWeek2020.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Comments: 50
Kudos: 83
Collections: NyxNoct Week 2020





	1. try not to fall

“Watch your step.”

“I know how to walk.”

“Okay,” Nyx chuckled. “But do you know where you’re going?”

Noctis bristled, shoulders scrunching to his ears like the hackles of an angry cat. He was about ready to remind Nyx that he was the _Crown Prince_ and that he did not need to be patronized like this. But he kept biting back that artifice of pride which he’d denied so well for so long because that wasn’t who he was. No matter how much Nyx Ulric’s self-assured smirk might tempt him to be, just for one second, just to put him in his place.

It was a miserable day and he was in a more miserable mood long before one of the Crown’s perfectly tailored shadows materialized to escort him. It had just rained, the guy Prompto set him up with for lunch had never showed, and he was just feeling all around hopeless and stupid and tired of ever letting himself think he’d have a shot at a normal date. Having the afternoon to himself just to brood on that for a bit was too much to ask for, apparently.

“His Majesty’s last press conference didn’t go over so well,” Nyx explained to him. “Tensions in the city are high today. I was asked to keep an eye on you, just to be safe.”

That did nothing to lighten the black cloud over Noct’s head, though it might have explained why his date bailed. These days, nothing killed a potential romance quicker than politics, and at this point? There wasn’t a body count higher than Noct’s. As if it wasn’t hard enough to find someone with the courage to just sit and have coffee with him in the first place. Keeping them there for a second round was a fool’s game, and Noctis was quickly gaining a collection of red noses for just how long he’d been one.

“It’s just a precaution,” Nyx said when Noctis didn’t respond. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Wasn’t about to.”

“Figured you wouldn’t,” Nyx chuckled again.

Noctis rolled his eyes, begging to know what the hell Nyx thought was so damn funny about him all the time. Every time Noct opened his mouth, it always felt like Nyx was laughing at him. _“Kicked Gladio’s ass at training today.” Laughing, “Yeah, I bet you did.” “Could kick your ass, too.” Still laughing, “Of that, I have no doubt.”_ Some days, Noct really wanted to knock that big, crooked grin off of his dumb, square face.

“Careful. Watch you – “

“I _know.”_

Noct marched on, boots slapping through the shallow puddles gathered between the cobblestones. The roads were slick, yes, fine, he got it. The spaces between Insomnia were thick with mist, the afterthoughts of the rain still clinging between the skyscrapers. It hadn’t been a hard rain, just a thin drizzle, no heavier than a gust of wind chilling down the alleyways. But it left everything damp and dark and slippery, a mirror world to Noct’s foggy thoughts.

“You alright, Highness?” Nyx asked – he wasn’t laughing that time. “Don’t seem like yourself.”

He wanted to bite back something about how he had no idea what Noct was like, but he didn’t have it in him. It wasn’t really Nyx that he was mad at.

“Been a day,” he mumbled.

Nyx looked at him, expectantly, but Noctis refused to elaborate. He was more hurt than he’d thought he would be over being stood up, and confiding in Nyx about that would just make him feel even more humiliated. The mighty Crown Prince of Lucis, incapable of finding a date himself, let alone keeping one. Now there was a reason to laugh at him.

“Is it the kind of day that calls for coffee?”

Nyx didn’t press him on the details, just gestured down the wet boulevard. Down the way was a pavilion where the street vendors set up shop. It was late fall in Insomnia, and you could get a cup of coffee at any one of them, even if they didn’t specialize in it. Every business owner from here to Cleigne pounced on the pumpkin trend if they knew what was good for them.

“Want to talk about it?” Nyx asked, as the braided vendor of his choice prepared his order.

“No,” Noctis said, shortly. Then, unbidden, “Yes.”

He clamped his teeth down on his tongue, cursing himself for letting the admission slip. Nyx smiled, the usual crookedness of it evening out. He didn’t laugh or say anything else, just leaned his elbow against the stall counter and waited. Noctis felt every last drop of blood in his body come rushing up to the back of his neck, mortified at himself for wanting to admit it. Before he did, he rushed out a demand of, “Don’t laugh at me.”

Nyx blinked, his smile turning down at the edges. His brow creased across his forehead, the broad, scarred flesh wrinkling at the edges of where his braids pulled back along his hair.

“Course not. What’s wrong?”

Noctis fiddled with the elbows of his coat, scrunching the thick fabric between his fingers. It was so embarrassing, but he felt like if he didn’t get it out, he might explode in a spray of neurotic guts right there in the plaza.

“I was supposed to be on a date,” he mumbled. “Instead, I’m stuck with a security detail.”

“Oh, shit, did I scare them off? I’m sorry…”

“No,” Noctis huffed. “Not your fault. Never showed.”

He kind of hoped that, if there _were_ dissenters prowling the city streets, they might just take him out right then and there. He shouldn’t have told him. He’d think he was such a loser. He’d laugh at him like he was always laughing at him. He could feel Nyx staring at him, piercing and steely eyes pressed to his face in a vice. Noctis felt like they could break him open if he didn’t let up.

Nyx turned back to the street vendor as he set his two coffees on the counter, and gestured for one more. When he caught Noct’s curious glance, he quirked up a grin. “This calls for two coffees.”

Noctis sunk deeper beneath the collar of his coat, cold husk of air puffing past his lips. He didn’t want his pity, he just wanted to get it off his chest before it crushed him. In the end, he didn’t feel all that much better, but once Nyx pressed the two lattes into his hands, his insides felt a little less cold over the whole thing.

“I’m sorry,” Nyx said, genuinely, his face loose with sympathy. “More sorry that you got stuck with me, instead.”

“That’s the real tragedy,” Noctis mumbled.

And Nyx laughed like Nyx always laughed at him, a low rumble of amusement thumping into Noct’s still-water thoughts.

“Hey,” Nyx offered by way of comfort. “Anyone who thinks it’s okay to stand you up, wasn’t worth your time in the first place. Their loss, if you ask me.”

“Oh… Thanks?”

Noctis hadn’t expected the vote of confidence. It made him feel… weird. Was Nyx just making fun of him? Was he just being sarcastic? Noct couldn’t tell. He was a hard man to read, his ever-present grin a bright, white ward over his true intentions.

“Their loss, my gain,” Nyx elaborated, touching the plastic top of his coffee cup against Noct’s. “What were you planning on doing? I’ll make it up for them.”

“Just… coffee.”

Noctis paused, brow creased as he stared down at the coffee cups between them. Something was clicking in the back of his brain, like a pilot light struggling to ignite. In that brief lapse of focus, he failed to see the end of the sidewalk, heel catching on the edge and nearly toppling him into the street. Nyx was quick to catch him, one arm braced solidly around his waist, balancing Noct against the unyielding warm wall of his side. Noctis clutched the coffee cups tightly in his hands, less worried about falling face-first into the concrete than he was about spilling these damn things.

He wasn’t quite sure why that was the case, or what exactly the strange, warm feeling in his brain was when that thing clicked on which had distracted him in the first place. He looked up at Nyx to find him smiling down at him, lips pursed on that insufferable laugh of his. Then he said those three little worlds which suddenly translated a whole lot differently in Noct’s head.

“Watch your step.”


	2. sweeten to taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Noct came to Nyx's door, he wasn't expecting a reward.

Noctis had no earthly clue what he was doing here.

It only occurred to him _after_ he’d knocked on the door that he damn well better figure that out. The Crown Prince appearing unannounced at a Kingsglaive’s doorstep outside of work better warrant a damn good excuse. He should have figured out that excuse hours before he set out to find Nyx, but here he was, two seconds away from having no better excuse than, “Hi, I was just in the neighborhood.”

No better excuse occurred to him in time before Nyx had opened the door. Noctis was met with a stunned expression, Nyx looking for all the world like he’d just gotten the wind punched out of him and he was blinking the stars from his eyes. Two things hit Noctis just as hard: one, the processing of his brain trying to reconcile the appearance of Nyx Ulric – whom he’d only ever seen in full guard regalia – in the casual kitchen trappings of an apron; two, how his apartment smelled like a freaking candy store.

“Noct,” Nyx said, awed by his appearance. Then he collected himself. “Sorry. _Your Highness._ Hi. Um… Since when did you know where I live?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Noct blurted, before the logistics of that ludicrous excuse could catch up with him. “No! Wait. Yes! I was looking through personnel reports and I happened to see your address and then, yeah, I was just in the neighborhood and then I remembered and then I was curious and _what_ the hell is that smell?”

Nyx blinked once for every word he could catch from Noct’s ramblings until he finally crashed at the end. Then, he laughed, that same, low, rumbling laugh that Noct had only just figured out had nothing to do with Nyx thinking he was a joke, yet still made his nerves ignite all the same.

“Why don’t you come in?” Nyx offered with all the delicacy that had taken Noct decades to learn and still hadn’t mastered.

Nyx’s apartment was a purely utilitarian space of blank gray walls and ragged furniture. It was all one room, the spaces designated by skeleton ideas of what different rooms consisted of. The bed was in the corner, there was a chair in front of a TV, and there was the cupboards of a kitchen: different rooms in miniature. Noctis hadn’t been quite sure what to expect, but he hadn’t thought Nyx’s living arrangements would look so sparse, like he barely lived here at all.

“I’m making marshmallows,” Nyx announced, striding back into the kitchen in five long steps.

“Ah… Why?”

“It’s a holiday!”

Noctis blinked in confusion, standing just inside the closed door, afraid to go any deeper into this uncharted territory. He was pretty sure he would have known if it was a holiday – someone was paid to make triple sure those were circled on his calendar. Nyx looked back to see the puzzled look on Noct’s face, then his smile sobered.

“A Galahdian holiday.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

The back of Noct’s neck suddenly felt very warm, hot with the shame of not having known that. It was a sore subject, the divisiveness between Lucian and Galahdian culture, but Nyx was quick to smooth over the awkwardness.

“Since you’re here, you can help.”

“Um, bad idea,” Noctis said, though his feet pulled him towards the kitchen, one step at a time. “Every time I’m in the kitchen it ends in disaster.”

“That’s because your friend, Scientia, has too many rules,” Nyx chuckled, good-naturedly. “C’mere, you can stir for a bit. My arm’s getting tired.”

Somehow Noct doubted that, skating a glance over the solid, bronze muscles flexing beneath his rolled up sleeves. Noctis put his attention to the bubbly mixture on the stove, the smell of warm sugar blasting up from the pot. Nyx gave him a spoon and told him to stir, so stir Noct did, feeling all too warm above the simmering sweetness.

“So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” Nyx asked, conversationally, tossing a powdery sugar mixture onto a baking sheet.

“Just walking,” Noctis murmured, fully aware of what a poor excuse that was. “Just thought I’d stop by. Say thanks for being so nice to me the other day?”

“That all?” Nyx laughed, lighter this time. “Could’ve just texted me that. I’ve got a phone number”

“Don’t have it.”

“But you have my address.”

Noctis paused the circuitous motions of the spoon through the molasses thick mixture. His face felt insufferably hot in that moment, and he really hoped it was because he was above a pot of molten sugar.

“R-Right. See that now.”

Nyx laughed like Nyx always laughed, this time patting Noct’s shoulder in a more concrete gesture of comfort. “I don’t mind the house call,” he said. “Who doesn’t love a surprise?”

Noctis nodded, vacantly. It had certainly been surprising when he connected the dots earlier in the week. Nyx knowing his favorite coffee order without needing to ask, Nyx laughing at everything he ever said, Nyx always watching where Noct stepped just so he could be there to catch him when he fell… Here he’d always assumed he was a big joke to Nyx. He was surprised to realize that wasn’t at all what Nyx was laughing about.

“So, um, what are these for?” Noctis willed himself to ask to keep himself from lapsing into an uncomfortable silence.

“Just gifts,” Nyx said, shrugging. “Can never go wrong with homemade treats back where I come from.”

“Are marshmallows not a staple for this holiday?”

“Nah, just me being burnt out on ideas.”

Nyx shook his head, mouth crooked up in a self-deprecating grin. He reached over beneath Noct to turn off the burner, fingers lightly touching his wrist to reclaim the spoon. Noctis sidled away, hastily shoving his hands in his pockets while Nyx set the pot aside to cool.

“Seems like a good idea,” Noctis said, clearing his throat. “Smells good, anyways.”

“Got a different flavor for every giftee.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“It’s always worth it. Here, taste for yourself. You might like this one.”

Nyx pulled a tray of finished marshmallows out of his refrigerator. There were small baking sheets of varying decays stacked wherever they could fit, all of different colors beneath sheets of plastic wrap. The puffed up squares of sugar Nyx withdrew were dyed blue. Cute, Noct thought, at least before he tasted it. Because there was method to the madness, not just for the aesthetic, but for the taste, too. As the fluffy sugar melted against Noct’s tongue, he tasted a slight tang, fruity sweet, a little bit floral. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was also unexpected.

“What is that?”

“Ulwaat berry and sylleblossom extract. Got ‘em on sale!”

Noctis snorted at the enthusiastic glint to Nyx’s eye. He would have never pegged him as a bargain hunter, or as a connoisseur of gourmet desserts. But this was just as good as any of the five-star confections Ignis had him taste-test.

“That’s delicious,” he said, with every bit of earnestness he could muster. “Who’s the lucky giftee?”

“You, if you want ‘em.”

Noctis paused, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I made them for you. Don’t have to be Galahdian to get a gift on this holiday.”

Words failed to write themselves out of Noct’s mouth, blinking down at the neat blue lines of marshmallows apparently intended for him. They were just to his tastes, too. He didn’t understand how Nyx seemed to know everything he liked without ever asking him what it was.

“It’s pretty great timing that you came by to visit,” Nyx chuckled. “Saves me the trouble of trying to catch you between conferences.”

“Please, catch me between conferences.”

Noctis would have taken anything over having to suffer through those inane Council sessions. Nyx smiled, eyes hooded, and became abundantly apparent to Noct that the way he’d always looked at him had never been in mockery, and only ever in admiration. It sounded like a thousand other possibilities when Nyx replied, steadily,

“Will do, Highness.”


	3. crowning company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct has questions. Nyx has time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed day 3, but I'll make it up on the catch up day. This isn't my best one, but I have a funny idea for tomorrow that this sets up so, hopefully that'll compensate.

“What else don’t I know about Galahd?”

Nyx blinked over at Noctis, head shifting a minute amount from his unmoving parade rest. He met his wide earnest eyes for just a glance before resuming his forward stare. He was still on the clock, whether or not the superior to his superior was there to distract him or not.

“Don’t know, Highness. You’d have to tell me.”

“Might take a while.”

“Well, as you can see, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Nyx craned his neck to indicate the vast, empty hall he was so emphatically impressed upon to guard with his life for the day. He knew that it was just a precaution against intruders, but it felt kind of hard to feel the gravity of such a task when there was so little in the hall worth protecting. The Citadel halls were usually well-adorned with valuable paintings and busts and hanging memorabilia from ancient kings past.

But this was the servants’ hall, where there was no one around to impress with the bygone artifacts of old royalty. Not even the new royalty passed through here enough to warrant a Kingsglaive watching their backs. Which was why he’d been so surprised when the Crown Prince of all people came scampering up to him. Time to put on his serious face, he supposed.

“What about you?” Nyx asked him. “Aren’t you usually pressed for time yourself?”

“I’m making my own time today.”

Nyx smiled, happy to hear it while also concerned over what the Prince’s personal secretary might have to say about that. It didn’t really matter. Nyx was grateful for the company, and he admired Noct’s courage to rebel against the strict guidelines of his position to come and see him of all people. Some days, he was never sure if Noctis actually wanted him around as much as Nyx liked having him around himself. But recently, he was finding that the Prince was seeking him out more than Nyx was seeking him. He tried not to let it go to his head. That, and the fact he was so curious about his old life in Galahd.

“All I really know is what a lot of Lucians know, I guess,” Noctis said, scuffing his boot against the floor. “I know where it is, what happened there, I know what the people look like, but not much else. I’ve tried looking it up, but… I’d rather trust someone I know is Galahdian than some schmuck on the internet who could be anyone, y’know?”

“I getcha,” Nyx chuckled, careful to keep his eyes forward, scanning the hall. “What brought this on?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Noctis shrug. He was leaning against the wall next to Nyx, arms crossed, eyes on the floor. He didn’t answer, leaving Nyx to draw his own conclusions. He tried not to draw any that would over inflate his own ego.

“Let’s see,” Nyx breathed out. “What don’t you know about Galahd? We like our food hot, which makes no sense because the island is always hot. Even in winter, it doesn’t get nearly as cold as it does here.”

“Oh yeah?” Noctis said, head perking up to listen.

“Yeah,” Nyx laughed, recalling his first winter in Insomnia. “The first apartment I lived in with Libs was freezing. Or, what we thought was freezing. We had on every long-sleeved shirt and blanket we owned between us, filled up every pot with water and let it boil so the steam warmed the place up. Only to have our neighbor come over wondering if our apartment was on fire and looking very confused when we were so cold. Apparently this was a regular temperature for the season, and we were just crazy.”

“Aw,” Noctis laughed, lightly. “I’m sorry. I’m not a cold person, either.”

“Don’t know how you people stand it.”

“Bet we’d say the same about the heat you’re used to.”

“True.”

There was a pause, Noctis shifting so his crossed arms fell lower across his abdomen. Less of a defense against his question being rejected, and more at ease now that Nyx was willing to answer them.

“You said the food is hot?” he prompted.

“Very. It’s all about the sauce back home. Everyone makes their own at home, everyone has their own recipe, and every summer we have to decide whose is the best based on how many people pass out.”

“You’re kidding,” Noctis laughed in disbelief, then his eyes widened when he realized Nyx was very much not kidding. “Who would win?”

“Last time it was the Ostiums, and that was only because they had Crowe that year.”

Looking back, it was so glaringly obvious that Crowe would end up having an affinity for fire once they were linked to the King’s magic. She hadn’t cooked for them since, and in a way Nyx was grateful. She could take the entire Kingsglaive with one skewer if she really put her mind to it.

“I’ll have to try it sometime,” Noctis said, lightly.

“You wouldn’t survive it, Highness.”

“I’ve survived worse than your cooking, I’m sure,” Noctis laughed.

“You have no idea what you’re in for, little king.”

“Try me.”

Noctis leaned off the wall, standing with his hands on his narrow hips in an outright challenge. Nyx had to purse his lips to keep from splitting into a grin, eyes ever forward on the empty hallway lest he get distracted staring at the determined shimmer in the Prince’s eye.

“You’re going to get hurt, Noct,” he tried to convince him. “And I’m going to be the one put on the line for treason if you do.”

“That’s not a thing,” Noctis said, waving his hand dismissively.

Nyx arched a brow at him, pretty sure that it was very much a thing. This might have been the only monarchy he’d ever known, but laws of treason pretty much came with the territory. Noctis didn’t elaborate, and Nyx wasn’t really given a choice as his Highness started making plans on his behalf.

“Start me out easy,” he demanded. “Take-out. Just the two of us. You’ve got to know the best places for it in the immigrant distract, right?”

“I know a place,” Nyx nodded, slowly, his brow creased. That sounded an awful lot like Noct was asking him out on a…

“Great! It’s a date.”


	4. one hot date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Noctis said he had a hot date, he didn't mean this.

When Noctis teased that he had a hot date that night, he truly, honestly – Six save him – had not meant _this_. He did not appreciate the universe’s cruel irony, twisting his words back around onto him. He really didn’t think he deserved that.

“I tried to warn you,” Nyx said, placidly.

“Not nearly enough!” Noct gasped.

He choked down the last dregs of his drink. He usually hated milk with spicy food, in spite of the science validating its cooling properties. Tonight, he couldn’t be bothered with being picky. It felt like Ifrit himself was pumping his fists against the roof of his mouth, barbed feet dancing across the buds of his tongue as he raved his way towards the back of his throat. The drink was obligatory, free of charge with every order of these particular skewers. Noctis had scoffed at first, avowing that he wouldn’t need it, but oh Shiva he was grateful for it now.

“Hey, can we get another?” Nyx called over to the restaurant owner.

The man chuckled something in Galahdian, and Nyx responded in kind. Noctis wished that he could appreciate the attractiveness of his voice when it slipped into that smooth, exotic accent, but the language sounded too far away in his head to admire the nuance. Another tankard of the frothy mixture was set in front of Noctis, the frosted glass nearly as big as his head. He wished he felt more embarrassed by just how much of it he could drain in one go.

Nyx gallantly rubbed a hand against the back of his shoulder, quietly urging Noct to pace himself so he didn’t get sick. As if his nonexistent tolerance to spicy Galahdian skewers weren’t embarrassing enough, the last thing Noctis needed to add insult to injury was to puke all of this up in front of the guy he only just recently realized was attracted to him. Nothing would kill any romantic idealizations Nyx might have had about him quicker than that. Though the state of him now wasn’t a great deal better.

His eyes were watering, his nose was running, his face had to be as red as it felt, and he felt his bangs sticking to his forehead over the abrupt outbreak of sweat. He could feel the back of his shirt starting to cling to his shoulders. If he could smell anything past the olfactory onslaught of snot and spice, he bet he was starting to offend. And if he wasn’t so frantically trying to ensure his own survival, he would be mortified. A manic part of his fried brain suggested he should just stop trying to cool off so he had an excuse not to realize what an embarrassment he’d made of himself.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” Nyx said over the fiery pumping in Noct’s ears. “You made it through more than most Lucians.”

He expected to hear the undercurrents of his laughter like he always did, bracing himself for the strange cocktail of shame and pride he’d been feeling in response to it as of late. But Nyx’s voice remained even, his hand on his back a steady presence keeping Noct from floating off into the hazy edges of his vision.

Noctis finished the second of his drink, then shoved his face into his hands. He rubbed the heels of his palms into his weeping eyes and groaned. He didn’t know what stung more, the peppery heat or the humiliation of it all. He had not thought this through when he challenged Nyx to this date the day before.

“This is pathetic,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

“Hey, c’mon,” Nyx prodded, nudging his elbow into his ribs. “You should be proud! At least you tried it and lived!”

“Still look like death warmed over.”

Noctis dragged one of the metal napkin dispensers down the length of the bar, surveying his warped red reflection in the surface. It was worse than he thought – but maybe that was just the way the metal twisted it. He fisted a clump of the cheap napkins against his face, mopping up the sweat and snot and tears, and trying desperately to regain some small sense of cool that he could convincingly brush off the experience with so Nyx didn’t think he was a loser.

“Feel disgusting,” Noctis growled.

“Well, you look pretty good to me.”

Noct’s initial reaction was to glare at him, positive that he was just teasing him. But when he met Nyx’s eye, his smile was genuine. Once upon a time, Noctis had been convinced that it never was, that he was always laughing at Noct’s expense. Lately, he’d come to interpret it much differently.

“You’re just saying that,” Noct grumbled, ducking his face back into his gross wad of napkins.

“Yeah, I am. And?”

Noctis opened his mouth to retaliate, but his throat dried out anything he could come up with to say. Nyx plucked a clean napkin from the dispenser and gently turned Noct to face him so he could more effectively dab at the wet spots on his face.

“You don’t need to say nice things to me just to make me feel better,” Noct said, face feeling overly warm again – oh god was there a second wave to this spice kick?

“Can’t I just say you look perfect without needing a reason?”

That definitely had to be a second wave coming on, Noctis thought. It felt like an inferno was trying to scald its way from the inside of his chest and out the pores of his cheeks. His stomach made a weird, jerking motion and Shiva save him this was it. He was going to be sick. He was going to throw up right down Nyx’s big, beautiful chest while he was trying to be nice to him, carefully dabbing at the corners of his eyes and the dips of his nose and the flat of his forehead.

“We’ll have to do something to make it even,” Nyx suggested. “How ‘bout on our next date, you treat me to a Lucian brain freeze or something.”

Noctis was afraid to laugh, lest the contents of his stomach bubble out of him too. Fortunately, it was just a laugh that expelled itself from his throat. He still felt freakishly hot, but he was starting to doubt he’d cool off until Nyx stopped implying that he enjoyed his company enough to see him again.

“Sounds fair,” Noct rasped, coughing to clear his throat. “I’ll even give you a _real_ warning for what you’re in for.”

“Please don’t,” Nyx chuckled. “Being blindsided will be the least of what I deserve.”

“You said it.”

“It’s a promise then, little king.”

“I’m keeping you to it, hero.”


	5. blanket boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For every hot dish, there's a cold beverage.

“Sure you’re okay?”

At long last, it was Noct’s turn to laugh at the innocuous misfortunes of one Nyx Ulric. They were each in agreement that it was the least he deserved after their last date. If Noctis had to suffer the sweat-stains resultant of the heat from Galahdian cuisine, it was only fair that Nyx suffer the icy consequences of Lucian food.

“The hell was that made of?” Nyx chattered.

“I dunno. Dry ice and sugar?”

The flash frozen pearls of ice cream used to be a summer festival staple, served from the rolling vendors next to Ferris wheels and carousels across the central parks of Insomnia. That was part of the whole charm to the treat, but once, when Noct had a craving for it in the middle of spring, he went on a digital crusade to find a place in the city that might serve it year-round. Few places did, and the one that he found within range of his apartment didn’t make a habit of it, but when the Crown Prince asked so nicely – and was willing to pay top dollar for it – they made an exception. Ice cream was the only excuse Noct was willing to use for throwing his royal weight around.

The crippling effect it had on Nyx was well worth it.

The usually impenetrable wall of cool Nyx Ulric exuded was promptly dismantled into a shoulder-hunched, teeth-chattering bundle of frozen nerves. Maybe Noct was a little sadistic for garnering so much entertainment out of it. Though, it was also somewhat of a relief to see Nyx in a slightly more vulnerable state. All this time, Noctis felt like he never really had his wits about him when he was around Nyx, the target of his lopsided smile and his heavy-lidded stares. Maybe this was somewhat petty of him, but he liked that he could be the one with the upper-hand for once.

“You’re a cruel ice king, Highness,” Nyx shuddered, hands crossed under his arms to stave off the frostbite.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad,” Noct needled him.

“Are my lips turning blue? It feels like my lips are turning blue.”

Noct pressed his own together, hoping Nyx didn’t notice how his eyes immediately fell down to look at his – though, maybe that’s what Nyx wanted. Noctis quickly glanced away, muttering that they looked fine and half hoping he didn’t hear him say so over his chattering teeth.

“Well, I now know why your spice tolerance is so low,” Nyx said, sitting down on the first bench he saw in direct sunlight. “You grew up on that stuff?”

“Yeah, though that might just me. It’s not exactly a staple.”

“You little cheater,” Nyx laughed, sounding more hysterical than amused with the shaky lilt of his voice. “I thought you were showing me some _traditional_ Lucian food?”

“It is! Some guy out in Leide invented it, like, twenty years ago. I dunno.”

“Still sounds a little like you cheated.”

“Maybe a little.”

Nyx barked out a laugh, huddling down into his sweater. It didn’t help that it was the dead of autumn, brisk winds funneling across the parks with a rustle of fallen leaves. Nyx braced himself for the next breeze, a shrunken, pale-faced shadow of the imposing figure he made in Kingsglaive black. Guilt nibbled at the back of Noct’s mind, and he sidled closer to him on the bench.

“Not to get too personal,” he teased. “But here, I’ll be your blanket.”

“I’d prefer it if you got too personal,” Nyx said, blatantly flirtatious with a shivering wink to go with it. “C’mere, blanket boy.”

Any hope of subtlety was lost with his frozen out inhibitions on the matter. Noctis bit his lip to keep from smiling too much at it, instead focusing on imparting whatever warmth that brought to his face into Nyx’s cold limbs. He pressed his side against Nyx’s arm in a careful show of support. Evidently, it wasn’t working to keep Nyx warm, because Nyx needed to pry his arm over Noct’s shoulders to hug him closer.

Noct felt his whole chest stall as he was drawn closer, staring down at his knees where they knocked against Nyx’s. This hadn’t exactly been what he was going for… and maybe that wasn’t exactly true. If he wanted an excuse to cuddle with Nyx, he probably could have thought of a better one. Nyx told him as much.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked without torturing me with cold,” Nyx chuckled – the easier, non-chattering chuckle that had plagued Noct’s every waking thought for the past week.

“Are you even all that cold?” Noctis asked then, suspiciously.

Nyx’s arm felt a whole lot steadier than it had been a minute ago across his shoulders. His voice wasn’t shaking quite so much, either.

“Must be you,” Nyx said. “Like you said, you’re a lot warmer than me.”

That wasn’t often the case. Noctis ran cold himself by default, but Nyx was having the opposite effect on his blood temperature these days. A slow-moving chain reaction had been combusting in Noct’s guts, volleying between hot and cold for days on end. Maybe he shouldn’t be trying so hard, maybe Nyx really didn’t feel all that more for him than just passing amusement. He never seemed to make Nyx feel as warm as Nyx did him.

When Nyx’s fingertips tilted his chin up to kiss him though, Noctis realized how wrong he was. Because Nyx was warm. _So_ warm. His rough fingertips were a little chilly against Noct’s cheek, but the rest felt just as feverishly warm as Noct did. Maybe it wasn’t just that Galahdian blood ran hotter than his. When Nyx drew away and looked him in the eye, Noct thought that maybe it was just for him.

“Your hands are cold,” Noctis said, dumbly.

“That’s what you get for freezing me to death,” Nyx laughed, blinking in amusement. “Is it my turn to warm you up?”

Noctis blinked once, gauging the nearness of Nyx’s lips to his face and the molten silver heat in his eyes like an autumn bonfire – close and cozy and save to warm his hands by. Noctis deliberately shivered, an awkward approximation of cold that he couldn’t quite immediate. But Nyx seemed to get it, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing at the little act of invitation.

“Mm, guess you’re going to have to,” Noctis said. “Can’t let your future king freeze to death.”

“Then I’ll take this duty of keeping you warm with the utmost seriousness, Your Highness.”

“Your service shall be rewarded.”

Nyx chuckled again, and Noct smiled, at ease with the sound of his laugh and at the fact that he could draw it out of Nyx like no one else. Kissing him again felt just as easy, too.


	6. the death of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct was going to be the death of Nyx, and vice versa.

Fighting was one of the few things Noctis believed he was truly good at.

Contrary to a couple opinions of past tutors – and Iggy’s perpetual exasperation – Noctis believed, if anything, he was at least capable of not dying in a fire fight. That was something, wasn’t it? Gladio seemed to think so – at least two out of the seven days a week they were training. Prompto consistently stated that he was a badass even on the days he didn’t see him fight. So, yeah, he didn’t think he was _horrible_ at fighting…

At least until he fought Nyx Ulric.

“How are you so _fast?_ ”

“Gotta be to outrun death.”

Noctis nearly choked laughing on the sweat pouring off his brow. He ran an arm over his forehead, shaking the moisture from his bangs. Fine, fine, don’t tell him, he thought to himself. He was plenty fast enough himself, just not Nyx levels of fast. He wasn’t entirely sure that made Nyx’s fight style more practical than his own, rather than just being him showing off.

That was just as fine for Noctis. If Nyx wanted to put on a show for him, he wasn’t about to tell him no.

He’d watched Nyx train here and there before, often skittering away once he was caught by that self-assured grin. Noct had always liked watching the way the Kingsglaive trained. Of all the fighting styles he was taught, and all the different tutors he was subjected to, warp-training with Kingsglaive operatives had always been his favorite form to study.

Sometimes the greatsword training was just too slow for him, no matter how much fun Gladio tried to make it for him. Sometimes daggers were just too overwhelming, and he embarrassed himself with how impossible it felt to catch up with Ignis, despite his friend’s assurances that he was training “at his own pace.” He’d trained with Cor and Drautos for different things, but the intimidation he felt under that specific tutelage made whatever he was learning feel like a moot point.

Drautos had wanted him to train under a Kingsglaive operative for a long time. He’d even tried to set him up with Nyx in the past, only for Noctis to find some excuse to avoid him. He hadn’t wanted to work under someone who he didn’t think took him seriously. What a fool he’d been to think _that._

“Should have done this ages ago,” Nyx said, barely out of breath as he strolled up to Noct in the center of the arena. “You’re fun.”

“ _Fun?”_ Noctis laughed in breathless disbelief. “What about this looks fun for me?”

Nyx skated a look over Noctis, from head to toe, that brokered no further argument. Noctis turned his back on Nyx before his face betrayed how he felt about that look. He straightened his aching back and linked his fingers over the back of his neck, leaning back to stretch out any other little kinks he couldn’t quite reach.

It was probably ill-advised for him to train with Nyx only _after_ they started dating. He was certain that painted quite a picture for the HR advisor. But, well, that’s _why_ the Citadel had an HR advisor, wasn’t it? Noctis had never been bothered by his image before, he wasn’t about to be bothered by it now. Maybe that made him selfish and undignified for someone in his position and maybe the PR department would have a tough time spinning all that for the headlines, but right now, he really didn’t care.

Right now, he was reveling in the developments of his relationship with Nyx. He was enjoying making Nyx laugh without even trying, even enjoyed the times he laughed over Noct making a fool of himself in front of him. He didn’t feel it in the moment, but in retrospect, recalling how unabashedly kind Nyx had been, it was hard to remember why he’d felt so mortified. It was easy being with Nyx. Noctis could count the amount of easy relationships he was able to maintain on one hand. He was glad Nyx was among them now.

“Want to try again?” Nyx asked, presently, bobbing a practice dagger in one hand.

He’d been trying to teach Noct how to warpstrike into a collision with an enemy blade without cleaving himself in half over it. It required a bit of finesse that Noct wasn’t quite sure he was capable of, but if Nyx wanted to spend more time with him working on it, he was willing to try.

He warped at Nyx and collided into his shoulder, the blunt blade pressing into his abdomen with Nyx’s proclamation that he was “dead.” He tried again, this time missing Nyx as the man dodged, and pressed the blade into his back. Dead again. The third time, it was just personal, and Noct didn’t care about fighting dirty. He warped straight for Nyx’s chest, knowing he was going to get a blade to the ribs for it.

Instead, he crashed right into Nyx’s lips, drawing a surprised “mmrumph!” from the glaive. The practice blade failed to hit it’s mark, so Noct pressed his own into Nyx’s ribcage while he was distracted. He grinned against his lips and mimicked Nyx’s clinical prognosis he’d been taunting him with the whole session.

“Dead.”

“Weird,” Nyx replied, breath puffing against Noct’s mouth. “Never felt more alive.”

Noct wanted to make another comment to taunt him, but this time he was caught off guard by Nyx discarding the practice swords completely and gathering his arms around Noct’s back to kiss him deeper. Noct made a little noise of surprise, hands kind of flailing over his Nyx’s shoulders for a second before settling around the nape of his neck. He vaguely wondered what the HR department would have to say about this particular training regimen, then shoved it far out of his head.

Kissing Nyx made him happy. Laughing with Nyx made him happy. It was such a rare commodity for Noctis that he couldn’t be bothered to worry about what anyone else might think of it. Nyx looked out for him, laughed with him like he was just a regular person. He didn’t feel the need to restrain himself just because of who Noct was. He wasn’t afraid to buy him coffee, or scalding skewers that were so hot they hurt to the point Noct could have him imprisoned for treason, threatening his livelihood like that. The nerve!

He’d been afraid that Nyx only saw him as a joke, and here he was now, realizing that Nyx’s laugh had never had anything to do with thinking Noct was any less or more than what he simply was. Just a person, wanting to be a person. And people kissed and laughed and ate crazy food together.

Right now, he was convinced no regular person could kiss quite like Nyx, but hey, he didn’t mind the exception.

“You know a move like this will be the death of you,” Nyx said between breaths.

“Don’t you mean you?” Noctis snarked back.

“You’ve been the death of me for a lot longer than this, little king,” Nyx chuckled.

“Try to survive for me, hero. Because I’ve got a lot of living I want to do with you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I'm tapped out this week! Sorry that all of my fics were so rushed and lacking, I can't wait to catch up on everyone else's incredible fics posted during this event. Hope that we can do this all again next year! 'Cuz ya'know this little life raft won't ever sink lol


End file.
